Chapter 22
--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
REWARD OF FAITHFULNESS
The deeds which selfish hearts approve And fame's loud trumpet sings Secure no praise where truth and love Are counted n.o.blest things; And work which G.o.dless folly deems Worthless, obscure, and lowly, To Heaven's enn.o.bling vision seems Most G.o.dlike, grand, and holy.
Then murmur not if toils obscure And th.o.r.n.y paths be thine; To G.o.d be true--they shall secure The joy of life divine Who in the darkest, sternest sphere For Him their powers employ; The toils contemned and slighted here Shall yield the purest joy.
When endless day dispels the strife Which blinds and darkens now, Perchance the brightest crown of life Shall deck some lowly brow.
Then learn, despite thy boding fears, From seed with sorrow sown, In love, obscurity and tears The richest sheaves are grown.
--Edward Hartley Dewart.
"DOE THE NEXTE THYNGE"
From an old English parsonage Down by the sea, There came in the twilight A message to me; Its quaint Saxon legend Deeply engraven, Hath as it seems to me Teaching for heaven; And on through the hours The quiet words ring, Like a low inspiration, "Doe the nexte thynge."
Many a questioning, Many a fear, Many a doubt, Hath guiding here.
Moment by moment Let down from heaven, Time, opportunity, Guidance are given.
Fear not to-morrow, Child of the King; Trust it with Jesus, "Doe the nexte thynge."
O He would have thee Daily more free, Knowing the might Of thy royal degree; Ever in waiting, Glad for his call, Tranquil in chastening, Trusting through all.
Comings and goings No turmoil need bring: His all thy future-- "Doe the nexte thynge."
Do it immediately, Do it with prayer, Do it reliantly, Casting all care: Do it with reverence, Tracing His hand Who hath placed it before thee With earnest command.
Stayed on Omnipotence, Safe, 'neath his wing, Leave all resultings, "Doe the nexte thynge."
Looking to Jesus, Ever serener, Working or suffering, Be thy demeanor!
In the shade of his presence, The rest of his calm, The light of his countenance, Live out thy psalm: Strong in his faithfulness.
Praise him and sing, Then as he beckons thee, "Doe the nexte thynge."
ZEAL IN LABOR
Go, labor on; spend and be spent, Thy joy to do the Father's will; It is the way the Master went; Should not the servant tread it still?
Go, labor on; 'tis not for naught; Thine earthly loss is heavenly gain; Men heed thee, love thee, praise thee not; The Master praises--what are men?
Go, labor on; your hands are weak; Your knees are faint, your soul cast down; Yet falter not; the prize you seek Is near--a kingdom and a
Toil on, faint not; keep watch, and pray!
Be wise the erring soul to win; Go forth into the world's highway; Compel the wanderer to come in.
Toil on, and in thy toil rejoice: For toil comes rest, for exile home; Soon shalt thou hear the Bridegroom's voice, The midnight peal, "Behold, I come!"
--Horatius Bonar.
THE EVANGELIST
Walking with Peter, Christ his footsteps set On the lake sh.o.r.e, hard by Gennesaret, At the hour when noontide's burning rays down pour.
When they beheld at a mean cabin's door, A fisher's widow in her mourning clad, Who, on the threshold seated, silent, sad, The tear that wet them kept her lids within, Her child to cradle and her flax to spin; Near by, behind the fig-trees' leafy screen, The Master and His friend could see, unseen.
An old man ready for his earthly bed, A beggar with a jar upon his head, Came by, and to the mourning spinner there Said, "Woman, I this vase of milk should bear Unto a dweller in the hamlet near; But I am weak and bent with many a year; More than a thousand paces yet to go Remain, and, without help, I surely know I cannot end my task and earn its fee."
The woman rose, and not a word said she, Without a pause her distaff laid aside, And left the cradle where the orphan cried, Took up the jar, and with the beggar went.
"Master, 'tis well to be benevolent,"
Said Peter, "but small sense that woman showed, In leaving thus her child and her abode For the chance-comer that first sought her out; The beggar some one would have found, no doubt, To ease him of his load upon the way."
The Lord made answer unto Peter, "Nay, Thy Father, when the poor a.s.sists the poorer, Will keep her cot, and her reward a.s.sure her.
She went at once, and wisely did in that."
And Jesus, having finished speaking, sat Down on a bench was in the humble place, And with His blest hands for a moment's s.p.a.ce, He touched the distaff, rocked the little one.
Rose, signed to Peter, and they gat them gone.
When she to whom the Lord had given this proof Of good-will came back to her humble roof, She found, nor knew what Friend the deed had done, The baby sleeping and the flax all spun!
--Francois Coppee.
THE BEST THAT I CAN
"I cannot do much," said a little star, "To make the dark world bright; My silver beams cannot struggle far Through the folding gloom of night: But I am a part of G.o.d's great plan, And I'll cheerfully do the best that I can."
"What is the use," said a fleecy cloud, "Of these dew-drops that I hold?
They will hardly bend the lily proud, Though caught in her cup of gold; Yet I am a part of G.o.d's great plan, My treasures I'll give as well as I can."
A child went merrily forth to play, But a thought, like a silver thread, Kept winding in and out all day Through the happy, busy head, "Mother said, 'Darling, do all you can, For you are a part of G.o.d's great plan.'"
So she helped a younger child along, When the road was rough to the feet; And she sang from her heart a little song, A song that was pa.s.sing sweet; And her father, a weary, toil-worn man, Said, "I too will do the best that I can."
WORK LOYALLY
Just where you stand in the conflict, There is your place!
Just where you think you are useless Hide not your face!
G.o.d placed you there for a purpose, Whate'er it be; Think He has chosen you for it-- Work loyally.
Gird on your armor! Be faithful At toil or rest, Whiche'er it be, never doubting G.o.d's way is best.
Out in the fight, or on picket, Stand firm and true; This is the work which your Master Gives you to do.
Who does the best his circ.u.mstance allows, Does well, acts n.o.bly; angels could no more.
--Edward Young.